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Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
 They re breaking formation, a voice announced. Blair thought it was Lieutenant Chang.  Starting their
attack runs . . . now!
 I ve got the first hairball, Maniac Marshall announced.  Watch my tail, Sandman.
 Do not lose contact with your wingmen, Ralgha s voice urged.  And do not let them draw you away
from the carrier.
From the chatter, Blair could picture the unfolding battle even before Rollins fed him tactical information
on his monitors. They counted at least thirty incoming Kilrathi ships, a mix of Dralthi and lighter Darket,
ranged against eighteen Confed fighters and the larger but less responsive hull-mounted defensive
batteries aboard Victory. From the sound of things, Hobbes was trying to keep the Terran craft in a
rough defensive line, with paired wingmen watching over one another. But hotheads like Marshall were
likely to let themselves be distracted by individual opponents and drawn into dogfights, forgetting the big
picture.
The Kilrathi had ships to spare. They would still be able to hurl a powerful force against the Terran
carrier after all the screening fighters were accounted for.
 I ve got the next one. That voice, cold and deadly, belonged to Lieutenant Buckley. Another pilot
easily drawn by the enemy, if she took her attitude into the cockpit with her.  See how you like this,
kitty!
 I always heard about target-rich environments! Blair recognized the voice as belonging to Captain
Max  Mad Max Lewis, another Gold Squadron pilot.  C mon, Vaquero, let s show Ñem a thing or
two!
 Scratch one! Scratch one! We have achieved kitty litter! Marshall s cry was triumphant.
 Make that two, Cobra chimed in a moment later. Despite the depth of her hatred, she sounded as
tightly controlled as Hobbes, as if the wild passion were translated into a cold, deadly intensity.
Blair checked his autopilot. Two minutes . . .
 Flint, go to afterburners, he ordered.  Full power. Let s get up there! He shoved his throttles fully into
the red zone, feeling the extra G-force press him against his seat.
 Maniac! Maniac! I ve got two on my tail! Give me a hand, Maniac! That was Marshall s wingman,
Lieutenant Alex Sanders, running name Sandman. After a pause, he went on, voice rising with excitement
. . . or panic.  For God s sake, Maniac, give me a hand!
 Break left on my signal, Sandman, Ralgha s voice cut him off.  Steady . . . steady . . . break!
The tactical sensors were picking up details of the battle now, and Blair watched as the symbols
representing Hobbes and Vagabond moved together to support the beleaguered Sanders. Maniac
Marshall was far away now, almost at the limit of the scans, hotly engaged with a Dralthi and paying little
attention to the other Confed pilots.
One of the Kilrathi ships pursuing Sandrnan disappeared under the onslaught of Ralgha s sudden attack,
while Chang dove in toward the second and forced it to break off.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
 Thanks, Hobbes, Sanders said, a little breathless now.  I . . . thanks.
 I m hit! Front armors gone . . . my shields . . . Mad Max Lewis was almost incoherent.  He s coming
in for another pass . . . Noooooo!!
The symbol representing the Terran Thunderbolt faded from Blair s tactical screen. The rest of the
fighters were jumbled together, a mad, chaotic dance played on the screen while Blair clenched his hands
around his steering yoke in frustration. Gold Squadron was fully engaged now, while the lighter craft of
Red Squadron operated on the fringes of the battle, surrounding any Kilrathi ships that penetrated the
defensive line. But the sheer weight of numbers began to play a major role as more and more Kilrathi
pilots jumped into the fray. Even though they flew as individuals, they were still a team determinedly
pressing their Terran opponents.
 Enemy coming into range, Colonel! Flint warned.  What s your pleasure?
 Stick close, Flint, he said, powering up his weapons and locking his targeting array on the nearest
Dralthi.  And watch my back. Things are going to get pretty damned rough out here in a second or two!
His target chased a Thunderbolt, the two fighters circling each other, attempting to find some type of
advantage. Now, as Blair and Flint appeared, the Dralthi broke off and rolled left, dodging and juking as
it tried to gain some distance.
 Not this time, fuzzball, Blair said, lining up the crosshairs and opening fire with his blasters. The energy
bolts raked along the top of the enemy fighter, hitting directly behind the cockpit, between two large,
forward-sweeping bat-wings. The Kilrathi fighter seemed to stagger and wrenched away to port as the
pilot tried to evade. Blair used his thrusters to spin his ship in flight and lined up on the Dralthi again
before the Kilrathi could finish his turn.
His fingers tightened over the firing stud, and the blasters tore through the weakened shields and armor.
The fighter disappeared in a ball of flame and spinning debris.  Got him! Blair said. He checked his
sensor rnonitor for a fresh target.
 Thanks for the assist, Colonel, said the pilot of the fighter he had rescued. It was Lieutenant Mitchell
Lopez, Vaquero, who had been Mad Max s wingman.
 Welcome to the battle, my friend, Ralgha said.  Will you take over the command?
 I relieve you, Hobbes, Blair told him.  Gold Squadron, from Blair. Reform on me! You re getting too [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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